Choose Happy

March 2, 2012

Man, I woke up evil this morning.

I saw the Expert sitting on the couch while I tried to take shower, get dressed, naked stumbling, crutches sopping wet fiasco (also, totally worse than naked coughing vis-à-vis Seinfeld), and I was mad. I was mad that he was sitting. I was mad that I was using crutches naked. [Do people really have to use crutches naked? I wasn’t seeing a way around it, but if you guys have some suggestions, let me know.]

This morning was my favorite spin class, and I wasn’t there (obviously). Coach Monster called me last night to tell me that I would be missed in class. I told him to play “Fat Bottomed Girls” in my honor.

I’m on my third day of working from home (which is a nice luxury – to have the type of job that can be done from a laptop and a bed). I’m able to de-boot the foot, and let it rest, so that’s nice too. I’m able to sit in jammies. I’m able to curse people without them hearing me, which is a nice change from the office.

But my workouts are continuing to pop up in my email inbox. I think next weekend should be the last of them, because Coach M had only built me out two weeks ahead. The emails show me what I should be doing, workout-wise. I am also receiving the standard emails from the race director at New Orleans. The whole thing sucks.

And I’m not Ms. Sunshine around this place either. I did pretty good for a few days, but now I’m just mad. Kinda evil. So just a few minutes ago, I grumbled down to do some work, and I snapped at the Expert who was leaving for work. I locked myself in the bedroom when the babysitter arrived, and I just cried.

One of my big things is perspective (I have none), and I try to remind myself that someone has it worse. The idea that if everyone in the world threw their problems in a pile… that I’d want my problems back immediately. I know that. To channel Coach M’s wise words:

The thing is: I don’t feel happy right now. At all. Even though I know I have much to be happy about.

I preach about triathlon being that special quiet place, the time when a mind can rest, while a body aches… and to have that taken away, all of the sudden, in the wake of a race just eight weeks away… feels just plain rotten. I know things could be worse. Trust me, I know. But when triathlon has become so necessary for my well-being, the sudden removal almost requires a certain grieving process.

But I am working on my happy. My choice to be happy. I will continue to work on it. Keep on working, keep on moving forward, keep on keeping on. I referred myself back to a post from my trip to San Diego in January, inspired by this picture at Torrey Pines, my happy place.

My very own words came back to bite me:

“The stones represent choices. You can pick them up and carry your choices with you, one by one, your bad choices, your good choices. The regrets, the egotistical ones… you can pick them up, and haul them, mile after mile after mile. Until eventually, the beach still has miles to go, but you’re carrying all these stones, and you’ve got nothing left to walk the rest of the way….

For eventually, all choices will be washed smooth and beautiful, forming the ever so slight backdrop of your true spirit, your whole life, the wide expanse of who you are. Just a beautiful beach, and one you’ve earned to tread upon.”

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6 Comments

Matthew Smith

It sounds like it's one of the hardest things to see the good right now instead of the physical and mental pain. But, at least you've got a job that is flexible, and a family that loves you, and a coach that cares about you, and crutches…at least you have them to help you around.

I hope your foot heals very quickly so you can be happy again! Hang in there!

itsallrelative

Last season when I finally admitted that the season was over for me due to an injury, I broke down in tears. Partially because I wasn't going to be able to do the race(s) that I wanted but also because I was afraid to go back to the person I was *before* training for triathlons. It really is frustrating – but please remember 1) this is such a short amount of time when compared to the length of your life 2) there are ALWAYS other races and 3) remember that nothing is forever.

(But I do understand how you feel. My husband always tells me (after such a day) that I need to take a "Blanche – as in Blanche DuBois Day" where I sit on the couch watching trashy movies and eating bonbons. After about 11am, I'm ready to get back at it.

Stefanie Frank

Grief needs to be FELT and acknowledged in order to move through it. Without guilt, judgment or being too hard on yourself.

You've suffered a loss. For the moment it doesn't matter how temporary it may be, how "lightweight" it may feel compared to other "heavier" problems. It's your grief and quite frankly you deserve to feel it.

For what it's worth this post does not sound like you're complaining, ungrateful or insensitive. Quite the opposite in fact. Feeling it is part of you taking care of YOU which is making you stronger. For yourself, your family and the other things you've got going on!

TX Runner Mom

I drafted a very similar post awhile back, then didn't post it. It is hard to be on the sidelines when you are so used to being active! The good news – it gets better. A little, anyway. I'll admit that at 1st every little comment from DH about his run, bike or swim would set me off and I'd get angry. But now, I think the acceptance of this injury has started to set in and I am getting a little nicer (and trying to be more supportive). We'll see how I do when cheering for DH at the 1/2 marathon tomorrow…the one we were both supposed to be doing…

Ara

I'm so sorry you're going through a rough time. I wish there was something I could do to help you. P.S. Don't you just love Marc & Angel's website? It's one of my favorites. Keep your chin up girl, you inspire me to no end!

Carrie @Tempo Life Coaching

You know what? Even without triathlon, it would be tough. It's never easy being an adult with a broken appendage. Using crutches is a pain in the butt no matter what the circumstances. It's hard work working from the coach or the bed (even though you can cuss at people and they don't know). It's hard enough to parent on a good day, and now you've lost the use of your foot and both arms (due to crutches). You have reason to cry. So cry!! Cry good and hard. And then, when you're ready, remind yourself of what you're thankful about. this is all real AND Legitimate. You're doing great!